The Eye Tells What The Tongue Would

The White Men Told Lies For Each Other. They Drove Off A Great Many Of Our Cattle. Some Branded Our Young Cattle So They Could Claim Them.

I Know That My Race Must Change.

We Do Not Want Churches. They Will Teach Us To Quarrel About God.

We Live, We Die, And Like The Grass And Trees, Renew Ourselves From The Soft Earth Of The Grave. Stones Crumble And Decay, Faiths Grow Old And They Are Forgotten, But New Beliefs Are Born. The Faith Of The Villages Is Dust Now... But It Will Grow Again... Like The Trees.

Finest Fur May Cover Toughest Meat.